Of Mice and Consulting Detectives
by goldvermilion87
Summary: You know that someone had to update Basil of Baker Street, right?  Special thanks to labourslamp for TONS of help.
1. Chapter 1

Baseboard  
>SH<p>

Three feet at least  
>SH<p>

Whatever kind we have  
>SH<p>

Epoxy  
>SH<p>

Paint  
>SH<p>

Nails  
>SH<p>

Hurry up  
>SH<p>

John this is important  
>SH<p>

What are these texts about?  
>JW<p>

Shopping list  
>SH<p>

What did you do?  
>JW<p>

Nothing  
>SH<p>

SHERLOCK!  
>JW<p>

Mouse traps  
>SH<p>

Why?  
>JW<p>

Experiment  
>SH<p>

One of each brand  
>SH<p>

More than one of each  
>SH<p>

S said to forward a few nonsense texts. I didn't  
>GL<p>

Sorry mouse problem  
>JW<p>

Sounded like a bit more than that  
>GL<p>

Also bullet problem  
>JW<p>

I didn't see that text  
>GL<p>

Thanks  
>JW<p>

Peanut Butter  
>SH<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

"Who was that?" Sean indicated the tiny white mouse dashing down the street.

"My flatmate for the past two days. Said it was 'too dangerous.'"

"Ah."

"I'm Ben, by the way."

"Sean. Good to meet you." Sean held out a paw, but Ben ignored it.

"You can have his old bedroom."

Sean saw several labeled boxes. "What should I do with these?"

"He'll pick them up."

Sean sat on the bed, and looked around. It was an excellent location, and though Ben was… odd… he seemed friendly enough.

Yes, he'd take the flatshare.

That Tim fellow had looked wet, anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Sean smiles as he looks at Ben, sprawled half on and half off the sofa, fast asleep. He sits in one of the chairs angled towards a mirror—part of the periscope Ben has engineered so they can watch telly—and takes a sip of steaming tea.

After years of military service, days filled with blood and shouting, terror and exhaustion, it's good to have a home—a place to sit in peace—

_**BANG BANG BANG**_

Sean curses under his breath as he tries to mop tea from his trousers. Ben picks himself up off the floor, looking confused.

"_BORED!"_


	4. Chapter 4

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock played on, eyes closed.

John walked into the room, snapped a stray chopstick in half, and walked back out.

Sherlock immediately dropped his bow arm, though he continued fingering scales. After several minutes, he sighed and sauntered from the room.

In his bedroom, John smiled as he slept.

* * *

><p>"Didn't fall asleep until after three. Bloody viol—Ben? What is that?"<p>

"Toothpick!"

"Why…?"

"For the bow! I'm building my own violin, so that…"

"If you build a violin… I'll _smash_ it!"

"You would _really_ want to do that, Sean?"

"…Ben, could you build me a pair of noise-cancelling earmuffs?"


	5. Chapter 5

Ben jumped off the railway platform, and began scrambling through the scattered trash. He heard Sean panting behind him.

Behind Sean, the hissing drew closer.

Ben squeaked loudly, and a shadow swooped past him. He turned just in time to see a raptor snatch the writhing snake.

Sean leaned against a half-eaten sandwich, and tried to catch his breath.

"Lucky for us that bird was there."

"Not lucky. I called him."

"How…?"

"But who did it? Who would have imported a snake from South America? And why?"

Neither mouse saw the flash of white from behind a plastic milk jug.


	6. Chapter 6

"_Yes, I know it's a kitten, John. But save the hysterics for something else. It wasn't as if I vivisected it. It was dead when I found it. I needed to know how it died for a case. I conducted a necropsy. It's a perfectly…"_

"It doesn't matter. They're living beings, Sherlock. _And_ they're quite cute. See that this _never_ happens again."

Sherlock glared at John and muttered, "Cute, are they?" under his breath, before typing something into his phone.

* * *

><p>"Sean! Wake up!"<p>

Sean shot up and grabbed Ben's paw. "Ben! I had the most terrible dream! There were cats! Hundreds of cats! John yelled at Sherlock after he dissected that cat this morning, so Sherlock bought every kitten he could find. They tried to… Oh! It was horrible!"

Ben shoved his paw away. "Don't be an idiot, Sean. You _know_ they both hate cats."


	7. Chapter 7

Sean sat on the table, and surveyed the wreckage. His bedroom was upstairs, so he didn't much mind.

Ben was floundering around, grabbing at the flotsam (waterlogged Petri dishes, runny notes, possibly a rat's tail…) and putting wet items on every available dry surface…

"This, Ben, is why I keep reminding you not to leave your experiments under the sofa."

"Shut up and help!"

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, you clogged the sink!"<p>

"You left the water on!"

"And you dragged me out of the house while I was in the middle of washing up!"

"But _you_ are still going to dry this floor!"


	8. Chapter 8

**The Bravest Mice**

The two bravest mice you will ever meet

Live in a house at Baker Street.

The mice are known as Ben and Sean.

They capture criminals all day long.

OoOoO

One day an evil mouse did grin

And said "Against these two I'll win."

His name was Tim, and he was mean

And liked to make mouse babies scream.

OoOoO

But Ben and Sean were not dismayed

The found him without any aid.

"Come with us, Tim!" the brave mice cried.

Tomorrow before a judge you'll be tried.

OoOoO

The two bravest mice you will ever meet

Live in a house at Baker Street.

The mice are known as Ben and Sean.

They capture criminals all day long.

* * *

><p><em>For the accompanying picture go here: http :  / pics . livejournal . com / goldvermilion87 / pic / 0006tshw_


	9. Chapter 9

"Lestrade, what is this? Why is everyone reading it?"

Lestrade took the paper from Sherlock's hand. "This? My daughter Sofie wrote it. It's very advanced for her age, apparently."

"It's about _me_! And those mice! How does she know about Ben and Sean?"

John looked shifty. Lestrade grinned.

"You should be flattered. Ben and Sean are 'the bravest mice.' I'm not even mentioned."

"Well… I'm glad for you that she isn't entirely unintelligent." Sherlock didn't _quite_ preen. "But I'm _not_ a mouse. I hate mice!"

John snorted. "Hate? or fear?"

Sherlock snatched the poem back from Lestrade, and stalked away.

* * *

><p><em>Sofie borrowed with permission from morganstuart's Sofie Series: http :  / morganstuart . livejournal . com / 5636 . html_


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft Holmes did not appreciate being woken up a full three point five minutes prior to his usual seven o'clock alarm.

He tried to remember his appointments for the day. There was the PM at eleven. But he knew better than to call this early. MOD? MI-6?

He reached for his phone.

He couldn't read the display without putting in his contact lenses, but he could see letters, not numbers—a saved contact, then. If it was…

"MYCROFT!"

It was. He added "divert Sherlock's calls to John's number" to his mental diary.

"MYCROFT! TAKE CARE OF OUR MOUSE PROBLEM IMMEDIATELY!"


End file.
